Ghost in the Graveyard

The sun has set and all you have to light your way is the moon and street lamps sprinkled down the block.  You’re crouched in anticipation, waiting for the moment that someone will spot you and shout, “ghost in the graveyard!”; then you’ll pump your legs in the hopes that your fingers will graze one of your neighbors before they make it to base, and then they will be ‘it’.  Have you played this game?  What about The Witch Ain’t Out Tonight, or Bloody Murder?  In my neighborhood, it was just Ghost in the Graveyard, and I was never ‘it’.  In fact, I was reduced to sulking on my front porch as I whined to my mom about how I wanted to play and it wasn’t fair (girl, you don’t know what ‘not fair’ is).    

Being the youngest of my two siblings, exclusion wasn’t anything new to me, but that didn’t mean I accepted the reasons for why I wasn’t allowed to partake in the evening game: It was getting dark.  Bedtime was approaching.  I was too young.  (Ah, to be “too young” again!)  This may be a bit of a stretch – but TTC is kind of like playing Ghost in the Graveyard (or, at least it is for my current situation).  Trade out young kids for a bunch of women in their twenties and thirties, swap the ‘ghost’ for a BFP, and you have a group bubbling with nervous excitement searching for a way to become it.  Not being able to TTC  is like watching everyone play a game that you can’t be a part of.  I’m stuck on a mental front porch, wishing that I could join in.  

I do it to myself really.  I snoop around on my app, zooming in on faint lines on pregnancy tests and distributing advice like a card dealer (it always comes with a parting line of “…but it was ectopic so now I’m in a three month wait.”)  I’m further developing my youngest-child-syndrome and working on sharing issues now (but I want a BFP!) and pondering over the unfairness that is life.  I want to squint my eyes at OPKs, I want to symptom spot, I want I want I want.  Deleting the app is too dramatic of a step for me, so I hid it on the second page of a folder in my phone, hoping that having to tap, swipe, tap (exhausting!) will keep me from going straight to it.  Out of sight, out of mind, right?  And shockingly enough…it’s actually working.  There’s nothing there for me anymore – at least, not at this time.  I’m trying to embrace this break (I did say I wanted Month 7 to be my “let’s not try, try” month – I just wasn’t aware the universe would take me so seriously) and enjoy not getting worked up over symptoms or tests.  Sometimes my fingers twitch and I get the desire to see what’s going on in the TTC world, but I worry that if I go back into the threads I’ll start making mildly inappropriate comments on every post I come across.  

Poster: I’m one day late – could this be our month?!

Me: Rude.

Poster: ???

Me: …jealous.

How nice would it be to “forget” about TTC for these next six weeks?  Constantly counting days and entering data has caused me more harm than good, and I have to remind myself that I won’t be able to mentally handle keeping up with all this tracking if it ends up being a long journey.  I started blogging in the hopes that other women wouldn’t feel so alone, but maybe alone is exactly what I need at this moment.  Otherwise, all I have left is to not-so-patiently wait for November to roll around and keep my fingers crossed that I’ll finally be it!

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